Here is a little experiment I wish to perform. First the hypothesis: The robots that search
the web for items of commercial interest—the only reason robots search the web
in the first place—are extremely fond of cats because some people are extremely
fond of cats and willing to spend money on cats. Indeed, the robots have no real sympathy for cats or, more bluntly,
couldn’t care less about cats. What robots are interested in is money. The experiment: Now let us suppose a
blogger such as myself, interested in promoting his or her book (Dear Babalu: Letters to an Advice Columnist),
posts a few insipid sentences containing the word cat in them. Do you suppose
those tireless, nosey robots will be intrigued? Will they visit my website? That
is the question. So let me tell you about my cat Findus. (I can’t believe I’m
going to do this.)

Handsome cat Findus has subtle waves of grey and black fur.
When I sit at the piano to begin practice, he jumps onto the bench next to me,
pushes his head under my arm, and forces me to pet him. As my playing is far
from melodious, I don’t blame him. He is, after all, a cat. Got that?
Findus is a cat. Yes, that’s what
I said, a cat. C A T. Yep, heard me right. A cat. Not a dog. Not
a frog. Not a pumpkin. Not a deodorant spray. Not a tube of glue or a guitar
pick, or a Western Red Cedar, or a blue
flame, or an inhabitant of the planet Sathatha, or a speech therapist (get the
connection?), but a cat. Hear that,
robot? Findus is a cat. A cat and that’s that. But just for the heck of it, let
me say that if there were more than one of him, then he’d be cats, lots and
lots of cats. Okay, I await your visits,
robots.